


Speaking of Things Not Physically Possible

by newsbypostcard



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy endings are nobody's forte, but maybe we should try one, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking of Things Not Physically Possible

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deleted scene from early draft of En Promenade, but you don't need to be familiar with it for this to make sense.
> 
> Tumblr user kinneys keeps asking me about happy endings. They're not my forte, either, but hopefully this is better than nothing.

Jim was stuck in Georgia for two more weeks solid with Bones McCoy, whom he had just told he had _loved_ in a misguided fit of stupid, pointless, idiotic passion.

 _Your youth and inexperience is showing there, Jim boy,_ he’d scolded himself in Bones’ voice, before curling into himself as the waves of apprehension crashed over him. 

The problem wasn’t that he’d been lying -- god help him, it was the truest thing he thought he’d ever said -- but more to the point, Bones hadn’t really been in a position to respond, and Jim wasn’t sure he could stand it if Bones didn’t love him back.

He was an idiot. He was the world’s biggest fucking idiot.

He threw his head back down into the bed and buried his face in the nearest pillow, narrowly stifling a groan. He was in hell. _This bed is hell right now._

He tried to figure out if he could suffocate himself with his pillow or whether that had featured in Bones’ begrudged list of “things that are not physically possible no matter how determined you are, Jim,” which had been verbally generated one day after Bones had dragged it out of him that he’d sustained this particular head injury after a doomed attempt at autofellatio while in the shower. But his attempts were interrupted when Bones started stirring beside him, frowning before he’d even opened his eyes, and Jim’s eyes flicked fleetingly to the door. 

Before Jim even he had a chance to seriously contemplate bolting naked out into the Georgia afternoon, Bones was already talking. Jim clutched the pillow closer to his face and braced for the worst conversation of his life.

“Did you bother to clean up _at all_?” Bones rumbled.

Surprised and annoyed, Jim's expression quickly rearranged itself into offense as he emerged from his self-induced pillow prison. “Are you serious right now?" he said, eyes squinting in the light. "I just gave you the fucking of a lifetime, and that’s what you have to say to me?”

“The bed,” Bones intoned dryly, one eye cracking open, “is sticky. How am I supposed to sleep on this thing.”

“I swear to fucking god, Bones,” Jim groused, throwing the pillow to the side as he moved to get up; but Bones’ arm suddenly caught him around the waist and pulled him back down, Bones rolling over to face Jim with a lazy smile, his thumb running over Jim's hipbone.

“I’m joking,” he assured quietly.

“I--” Jim began angrily, but Bones caught his lips in a kiss laced with stupid contentment, and Jim leaned into him despite himself. “So this is Georgia,” he croaked, annoyance still gracing his tone after Bones had pulled away.

“This is Georgia,” Bones confirmed in a graveling tone, wending a hand into Jim’s hair and tracing kisses across Jim’s jaw. He wound his way over Jim’s face before settling back at his lips, and there he stayed, pulling Jim’s lower lip between his own with a series of sucks and nibbles, Jim losing himself in the rhythm of it. It was an oddly intentional rhythm, Jim noted after a time, a suspicion amplified when he noticed Bones’ thumb rapping the same thing against his hip; and Jim eventually realized with a jolt that Bones was pulsing “I love you” into him in _fucking morse code._

Jim suddenly exploded into loud, relieved, _annoyed_ laughter and bowed his head, feeling Bones’ own breath of laughter against his forehead as he buried his face into Bones’ neck.

“Please be more subtle, you fucking asshole.” Jim pulled Bones against him, intertwining their arms together, tucking one leg between Bones’ own and holding tightly on, both of them still stinking of sex and sweat.

“Were you really so worried?” Bones asked in a voice barely audible, his vocal cords vibrating against Jim’s forehead.

Jim blinked slowly and exhaled. “Yes,” he said honestly.

Bones pulled slightly back and looked Jim dead in the face, and Jim was sudden extremely fucking grateful for his default seriousness. “You know I do, Jim," Bones told him, and it was the sort of tone that kept Jim in rapt attention, clinging to the sincerity. "I won't say it much, but you should know: it’s not even a question.”

And as Jim tugged at Bones’ hips and shut his eyes as Bones leaned their foreheads together, Jim didn’t doubt him at all -- which, apart from being terrifying in its own right, did at least calm Jim enough to lull him into restful if frankly kinda sticky slumber.


End file.
